The Likable, The Likely and The Unlikely
by Avon
Summary: The following are three possible ways for John Boulton to leave The Bill – the likable, the likely and the unlikely. They were written for a competition held on the old TB forum before John had actually left. You had to predict how he would leave.
1. The Likable

"A bloody good result, John," said Meadows, coming out of his office. 

"A team effort, Guv," Boulton replied - but was unable to hide a melon-boy's grin of triumph.

"You should have seen Tonkins and Willis' faces, " chimed in Lennox.

Holmes giggled a little. "Willis thought it was his 'escort' arriving and he was in the bath so he just called out 'Come in, sweetheart - I've been dreaming about you'-"

"And Sergeant Boulton said," cut in Proctor, successfully spoiling yet another story, "Only in your nightmares, sunshine."

Boulton stood there grinning. It didn't get much better than this. It had been one of his never give up cases. Willis had slipped through his fingers two years ago after a raid Don Beech had helped to organise. Deakin had given him a right bollocking, then told him to forget it. After a couple of days of sulking other cases had to take precedence but he'd never forgotten, never stopped chasing up scraps of information. Now he had Willis bang-to-rights and Tonkins as a nice bonus. Sure, if he ever had the time or inclination to look his ribs would look like a herd of cows had stampeded across them. Right now though the pain was almost enjoyable, as he stood there, surrounded by his people, looking forward to a few more words of praise from Deakin and then some celebratory drinks.

Deakin came out to join the melee. Ignoring Proctor, who started to tell the Willis-in-the-bath story again, he patted Boulton on the shoulder.

"John, good work - my shout tonight."

Amongst the cheers and cries of 'Make mine a double!' Deakin handed Boulton an envelope.

"You might want to see this."

Boulton took it cautiously. In his experience official looking letters usually heralded a disciplinary charge but there didn't seem to be any malice in Deakin's smile. He tore it open and read it quickly twice and slowly once then looked up with a blinding smile.

Deakin shook his hand. "I heard a whisper from a robbery squad contact. We'll miss you, John."  



	2. The Likely

Running up the stairs, busy planning ways to convince Deakin how essential it was that an obbo be set up tonight, Boulton didn't even notice the odd silence of the people he met. Then he walked through the swing doors and saw a man sitting at his desk, going through his desk drawers. 

"Who the hell are you?"

"He's CIB, John," Deakin answered from where he stood in his office doorway.

The man looked up briefly. "DS Cartwright - and this is DCI Rand. You're under investigation for accepting money to pervert the course of justice."

Boulton just stood there; blood drumming in his ears and mouth literally hanging open. He saw the scene in front of him as though it was a stage with the spotlight on his desk. Cartwright, dark-haired and rumpled looking, was carefully stacking case files on his desk while Rand watched from his position in front of the computer. He was grey haired and wore an expensive suit and an old school tie but what transfixed Boulton was the evidence bag he held - an evidence bag which bulged with a wad of twenty pound notes. Boulton swallowed and shivered, suddenly cold. He looked at his two colleagues - Beech, sitting, sombre, at his desk, and Deakin, face unreadable, leaning against the doorway of his office. 

"Guv, about the Welkin St Post Office job-"

"John, forget it. Geoff and Don will be taking over your cases."

Boulton waited, waited for Deakin to add " -until you're back." Nothing happened. He looked again at the evidence bag of money, saw in memory Proctor and Duncan hurrying past him on the stairs without a word and realised that he was gone. He steadied his voice with an effort.

"How the hell am I in the frame?"

"We received a tip-off."

"You received a tip-off! You mean I've been grassed up by some little lowlife who's got a grudge against me?"

Boulton was shouting by now. He took a step closer to DS Cartwright who stood up, unworried.

"It came from a police officer actually. Word was Jimmy Smith had a Sun Hill senior officer in his pocket but we couldn't narrow it down - then this came in"

"That'll do, Col. Caution him and we'll be off."

"I'm arresting you on suspicion of"

The words beat around Boulton's head like the black-winged birds of a nightmare. They were words so familiar that he could have recited them backwards but now only meaningless snatches got through.

" don't have to say anything but it"

Cartwright was picking up a pile of folders from his desk.

"something you later rely on"

Rand shook Deakin's hand and came around the desk to join the two of them.

"Anything you do say"

Cartwright took his arm and led him towards the door. Jack Meadows was there, looking as though he'd trodden in something very nasty.

"may be given in evidence."

The doors swung shut behind them and there was silence in the office. It was Beech who spoke first. He shook his head. 

"Terrible business, this."

Face almost piously solemn he got up.

"That Welkin St job, Guv - I'll go and put myself around a bit?"

It was Meadows who answered.

"Yeah, Don, off you go."

Meadows came over to where Chris Deakin stood, still looking at Boulton's disembowelled desk.

"I would never have picked him."

"No, sir," agreed Deakin, watching the door swing shut behind Beech. He looked back at Meadows.

"Guv. What do we do now?"

"He'll be interviewed at Belgravia so we wait, and make damned sure everything is tidy at this end. This doesn't look good for either of us, Chris."

It was 11:40 when Meadows made his way through a night-darkened CID office to the DI's office. He was carrying a bottle of scotch and two plastic cups.

"It's over, Chris."

"John admitted it?" There was disbelief in his voice.

Meadows poured the scotch. "No. He went for DCI Rand - broke his cheekbone. He's being charged with assault."

Meadows downed his scotch while Deakin moodily swirled his around in the plastic cup.

"It's over, Chris. There's nothing any of us can do for him now. He'll go down on the corruption charges too, even without an admission. Bloody idiot."

"Yeah," agreed Deakin, tasting his scotch. "Bloody idiot."


	3. The Unlikely

(With apologies to the makers of ET this is for all the people who have wondered what the heck John Boulton, of all people, would be doing with a plastic sunflower on his desk.) 

It was three in the morning and the station yard was deserted when Proctor returned from attending a suspicious fire. He sat for a moment in the parked car, reluctant to face the cold and the paperwork. Sitting there in the temporary warmth he caught a flash of blue and red lights in the rear vision mirror. Startled he turned around - who would use their lights in the yard? - and froze in sheer disbelief. A large Christmas bauble shaped spaceship was gently setting down in the centre of the yard. Proctor was frozen for a moment, not sure if he should have a good lie down or call for back-up on his radio. He did neither. Instead he shoved open the door and got out. Standing open-mouthed and shivering from the cold he saw the side of the spaceship breached by some sort of sliding door. In the light that shone out he saw a metal lattice drawbridge come slowly down. He saw more. He saw John Boulton standing quietly in the dark yard watching the door open. When the drawbridge reached the ground Sergeant Boulton bent over and picked up the plastic pot plant that normally adorned his desk. Carrying it carefully in front of him he climbed the gangplank.

"Sarge," bleated Proctor, coming forward as Boulton stepped into the spaceship. 

The drawbridge started to rise. Boulton turned and was watching Proctor through the fine metal lattice. He raised a hand in farewell and before Proctor's disbelieving eyes a red light started to glow from his body where his heart should have been - Proctor had always subscribed to the popular belief that he didn't have such an organ. Slowly the four parts of the door slid shut. With a slight hum the chubby spaceship began to move. In a moment all that was left to see was a rainbow-shaped streak of red and blue lights in the night sky.  



End file.
